


of roses and bleeding and crying too much.

by pinkgrapefruit



Series: coughing up petals [5]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Blood, Crying, F/F, charlotte is back on her bullshit, fucking flower metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 09:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19809583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkgrapefruit/pseuds/pinkgrapefruit
Summary: She was scared of drowning in those eyes.So she ran.





	of roses and bleeding and crying too much.

**Author's Note:**

> she's back on her bullshit and she's so sorry.  
> please give feedback, i need motivation to actually update my multichaps.  
> love you all!  
> enjoy!

_ I thought that I was dreaming when you said you love me _

_ The start of nothing _

_ I had no chance to prepare _

_ I couldn't see you coming _

She thought she was dreaming when the flowers started to bloom. They grew from the cavities in her lungs like they were trying to escape - like she was something you could escape from.

She never thought she was a monster.

They grew and grew till all she could see was red roses surrounding her vision - blinkers keeping her eyes on Vanessa and oh isn’t it ironic. Isn’t it ironic how flowers can grow from the cracks before you even know they are there - push them apart until cracks become canyons and you are scared to look down for fear of drowning in those eyes.

She was scared of drowning in those eyes.

So she ran.

_ The start of nothing _

_ I could hate you now _

_ It's quite alright to hate me now _

_ When we both know that deep down _

_ The feeling still deep down is good _

She never gave herself the chance to let dismissal grow into hatred because it is a useless emotion. What good can come from an emotion that is based purely on destruction and relentless dissolution? She became disillusioned with the idea of romance, of falling in love to the point where it was like looking in a cracked mirror - shattered and broken. She would look and see nothing but shatter lines - fault lines. A map of where she could hurt next. It’s like earthquake prediction except this time she just avoided them all - jetted off to an island with no romance or love or anything. Just solitude. No cracks - smooth ground.

Like it’s been said. Flowers like to grow from cracks. 

Let the soft skin poke through, and you grow thorns.

_ If I could see through walls, I could see you're faking _

_ If you could see my thoughts you would see our faces _

_ Safe in my rental like an armoured truck back then _

_ We didn't give a fuck back then _

It’s hard to run tripping over the cracks. Uneven footing leads to falls and falls lead to injuries that scar over with bulletproof material and sorrow. Tears taste like despair and liquorice so you learn not to cry anymore. Blood tastes like honeysuckle and merlot so you learn not to bleed.

She learns not to bleed like one learns a new language - slow and broken. She tries and she tries until she is passable and just promises herself not to bleed anywhere where someone will smell blood. 

She learns not to cry in front of Vanessa.

She learns not to bleed.

_ I ain't a kid no more _

_ We'll never be those kids again _

_ We'd drive to Syd's, had the X6 back then _

_ Back then _

When she was a kid she would bleed too much, cry too much, feel too much. Her mom always told her roses were red because of the blood people bled from the thorns they grew, and she thought it was stupid until she met Vanessa. Then her heart felt a thousand thorns and, like a sinking boat, she went under.

It was agonising to feel her lungs fill with the heavy weight of distrust and she let it weigh her down.

She tried year after year to sail through the changing ties of her emotions - felt the ebb and flow of her body as she moved through life. Boat after boat sank into the graveyard of her diaphragm.

She used to feel too much.

She vowed to never do the same thing again.

_ No matter what I did _

_ My waves wouldn't dip back then _

_ Everything sucked back then _

_ We were friends _

She thought she was dreaming when she started to water the flowers with blood instead. They turned from red to white and suddenly she could feel every emotion she told herself she would not. She learned to love the garden in her lungs - to feel its presence with every inhale but not let it hurt.

She told herself that the flowers would go away.

They didn’t.

How do you pluck a bouquet when every rose is rooted in your veins?

The answer is with pain. So she plucked the bouquet together and entitled it pain. Wrote love note after love note using her own blood for ink and when she felt she had bled enough for the two of them she left it on Vanessa’s door and hoped that they could go back to love.

When Vanessa said no - she bled on her doorstep a thousand yellow roses.

Betrayal.

_ I thought that I was dreaming when you said you love me _

_ The start of nothing _

_ I had no chance to prepare _

_ I couldn't see you coming _

**Author's Note:**

> come harrass me on tumblr!  
> @pink-grapefruit-cafe


End file.
